


Is It Over?

by 00javierbardem



Category: 00silva - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 20:10:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3221840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/00javierbardem/pseuds/00javierbardem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James desperately wants to end the life of the platinum-haired man who has taken everything from him, but he is simply unable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Is It Over?

**Author's Note:**

> This was an idea that came to me in a dream and I decided to write it on a wim. Nothing was planned or edited, I just winged it with this one. Enjoy!

James stealthily entered the chapel's main entrance and gripped the knife in his hands with a fresh determination. This was it. He was going to end Silva's life. It was all about to be over. This was the end.

James stepped forward quietly, far enough away to remain in the shadows, but close enough to get a good shot at the man in the long black coat who stood a mere ten feet away, towering over a frightened M. Bond listened to the uncertainty quiver through Silva's voice as he conflicted whether or not to end M's life.

Silva emitted a frustrated snarl before forcing his pistol into M's shaking hands.

"Free both of us. Free both of us! With the same bullet...."

James felt his determination plummet as he steadied the knife, ready to throw it into the other man's back and murder him in cold blood. Why couldn't he do it!? M's life was at stake! Bond clutched the knife in aggravation and threw his arm back, seconds away from propelling it forward.

"Only you can do it. Do it. Do it...." Bond nearly released the knife, but quickly paused in mild horror as M limply collapsed to the ground, her injury finally taking its fatal toll. Bond dropped the knife with a loud clatter and raced forward towards her weak body. It all seemed to occur in slow motion as Bond angrily shoved Silva away from her, who's mouth was ajar and eyes were distantly staring at M's body in shock.

Bond slipped his arm under M's head to steady her and gently hoisted her up so she lay in his arms. Her face was ghostly white; only her penetrating blue eyes reflected what little life she still had left. Her eyes slowly wandered to James' face, which was now a mournful, sobbing wreck.

"James...." She weakly mumbled, almost inaudibly.

"Shhhh... I'm here, M. It's okay, everything is going to be okay," Bond assured, though he knew the opposite was inevitable. Tears trickled down his cheeks and fell into her hair like a slow, sorrowful rain. M's eyes studied James' face as if he were a puzzle she needed to solve before she went. Finally, after a few passing moments, she smiled ever so subtly.

"At least I got one thing right," she whispered before her eyes went blank and her head fell lifelessly into James' arms. James held back a sob as he gently lifted her head and pressed his lips to her cool forehead and slid his fingers over her eyelids to close them. For the first time in all the years James has laid his eyes upon her face, she finally looked at peace. He set her down on the chapel floor and stood, wiping the hot wetness off of his cheeks. He noticed Kincade standing off to the side, silent the entire time, but with his hat off and pressed against his chest next to his heart as a sign of respect for the passing.

James glanced down at her one last time before closing his eyes and crossing his heart. Though he wasn't religious, he knew it was the right thing to do for her.

"Is it over yet, Kincade?" James asked like a child asking a parent if a scary scene in a film had ended so they could uncover their eyes. Kincade gazed at Bond with a furrowed brow and serious eyes and immediately James knew why. He spun around in search of Silva, but he had vanished, leaving only his black trench coat crumpled on the floor.

"James, you do what you have to do, son," Kincade said grimly. James nodded at him and started forward, swiftly retrieving the knife from the ground as he exited the chapel, a new kind of rage consuming him.

Silva was knelt by the cemetery, in front of James' parents tombstones, his turtleneck sweater almost camoflauging him in the darkness. Just the sight of the man, looking helpless and victimized sent another spout of anger through James' body. He marched towards the man, resisting the urge not to penetrate his body with the knife right then and there. He kicked Silva to the ground with a forceful push of his foot, and got on top of the man, each leg on either side of him so he couldn't escape, but Silva had no intentions of fighting back. James pressed the knife to his throat.

"Give me one good reason not to slit your throat right here, right now!" James snarled. Silva wasn't looking at him, but off into the distance dreamily, as if in a hypnotic state. "Answer me!" James yelled, clutching Silva's jaw with his hand. Silva's gaze remained elsewhere, but he spoke in a broken, tragedy-stricken voice.

"She's dead. It's over... She's gone," he muttered as if recalling a sad memory. Now he looked at James, but he had no sense of resistance in his stare. "If you want to kill me, James, I won't stop you... This is all my fault anyways. I'd encourage it. I'd welcome death with open arms." James' eyes glared into Silva's skull menacingly, but he had lost the rage in his expression. He sat there in silence, churning his thoughts over and over in his mind while Silva stared at him with soft and thoughtful eyes.

Finally, James threw the knife aside, but what he did next was certainly not expected, even from Silva. James angrily wrestled with Silva's sweater and shoved it upwards roughly to reveal his pale and battered chest.

"What are you doing?" Silva questioned, the life returning to his voice in a sort of panicked concern. James glared at the man's bare torso, studying the hundreds of scars that plagued his skin. Some were long, short, raised, flat, red, white, vivid, and faded. James ran his fingers over some of the largest and most brutal-looking ones and caressed the smaller ones. Silva still analyzed James' face in a state of mild awe.

Finally, James huffed bluntly and yanked Silva's sweater back down and stood, stepping away to stare off into the distance exhaustedly. Silva struggled to stand from the painful aches that reverberated through his joints and limbs, but he succeeded and stood beside James, trying to figure out what he was staring at.

"What was the purpose of that?" Silva asked without looking at James, breaking the eerie silence between them. James glanced over at the man, who in return, returned his stare.

"I had to see the scars. I had to justify letting you live by remembering the torment you went through," James explained emotionlessly. Silva gave a single nod and furrowed his brow, gazing at the charred mansion in the distance that was still ablaze. From far away, it almost looked beautiful--like a massive fireplace keeping the landscape warm. Silva broke the silence again.

"James?" He muttered.

"What?" James replied. Neither man peeled their eyes from the fire.

"Why let me live?" James paused.

"Because you let me live. You could have killed me one hundred times each time we've met, but you didn't."

"I was using you. To get to her," Silva argued.

"Yes.... But I know that if it came down to it, you wouldn't be able to end my life just like I can't end yours." There was another silence between the two, this time much longer. Once again, Silva interrupted.

"James?" 

"Yes?"

"Is it over?"

"Well... Skyfall manor has crumbled, my car is disintegrated, your helicopter is in pieces, and the head of the top spy agency in the world is dead........" James responded calmly. He turned to look at Silva. "I'd say it's over." Silva gave a wry smile and, after a short pause, started walking forward, towards the flames.

"Where are you going?" James called. Silva spun around.

"Where every man wants to go when a war has ended. I'm going home, James!" Silva announced cheerfully. James bit his lower lip indecisively before retorting, "Are you going to walk all the way there?" Silva chuckled at this.

"I'll walk as long as I have to until I can catch a flight," Silva quipped as he started forward again. James scoffed to himself and ran after the man.

"May I follow you?" James asked rhetorically. Silva stopped in puzzlement.

"What about MI6? What about for Queen and country?" He questioned in disbelief. James sighed and shrugged. 

"I've been ready for a fresh start for quite some time now. Why not leave now, when an old chapter ends and a new begins?" James suggested. Silva smiled.

"Are you sure you want to spend this 'new chapter' with me?" James cracked a grin.

"I'm more sure than I've ever been in my life," James replied. Silva returned the grin and heaved a sigh.

"Off we go, then?" He tutted, and the two men hiked past the blazing manor and into the darkness, away from the death and tragedy from which they came--though they never felt more alive in all of their existence.


End file.
